Much More Than Life
by iamsheena
Summary: Louis Connelly has finally found his love, Lyla Novacek. Lyla has finally found her son after recently finding out that he hadn't died as an infant like she was told so many years ago. All of their lives are about to change drastically. This is my interpretation of what happened following their reunion and years after.
1. Introductions

A/N: I've been getting some really nice compliments and a lot of story favourites/follows lately and it's been somewhat motivating. I do want to write more. However, I've just re-read the chapters that I wrote two years ago and want to make some changes (hopefully improvements) first. I have a lot on my plate, but I miss writing, even if it's only fan fiction, so this is me saying I'll try to add more and thank you for the support! (12/12/2017)

* * *

 **Much More Than Life**

 _"My eyes are open,_

 _My arms are raised for your embrace,_

 _My hands are here to mend what is broken -_

 _To feel again the warmth of your face._

 _I believe there is more to life_

 _Oh, I love you much more than life."_

 _-_ "Someday" by John Legend

* * *

Chapter 1 - Introductions

Louis Connelly gazed lovingly at the woman who had so altered his person all those years ago. Lyla Novacek was aged, as was he, ever so slightly, but the smile that spread across her face threw him back to the first day they met. However, her eyes only lingered on him for a moment before turning to the stage. He looked too, wondering what had so captivated her attention.

On the stage above them, a boy had been leading the orchestra; it was the concert that brought he and Lyla together. Even so, the tiny conductor was standing as if he forgot what he was there to do, and Louis could see the slight tremors in his body before he turned around and looked down at them.

Louis knew the boy - the one who had seemed so sad before and after they had played together, yet so free and joyful in the moment. He had felt drawn to the boy - he called himself August, but couldn't understand why. Now, looking up at the smiling boy – the dimples in his cheeks and the soulful blue eyes of Louis' own mother, the ones he had inherited – Louis to truly saw him. This was Lyla's son. This was his son.

"That's our son," Lyla whispered as the final notes sounded.

"Yes," Louis said assuredly.

Applause sounded from the surrounding audience, breaking the haze that had enveloped Louis and Lyla. The boy - Louis' son -  
barely bowed before running off stage. Lyla led Louis eagerly backstage where they would both be introduced to their child, a symbol of their love.

Richard Jeffries felt breathless. This boy that he had known for less than a year evolved from not knowing what whistling was to writing and conducting a piece for a symphony. And the piece might have been the most beautiful piece of music he had ever heard. Evan Taylor was running in his direction, looking ecstatic - the happiest he had ever seen him, in fact. What on Earth-?

"Evan!" Jeffries shouted as the boy neared him.

Evan stopped in his tracks. "Mr. Jeffries," he replied, surprised.

"Evan, I had no idea that-"

"Mr. Jeffries, it's my parents!" Evan interrupted, evidently too giddy to listen to anything Mr. Jeffries had to say.

"Your parents?"

"I played for them and they came. I saw them!"

"You saw them? Where?"

"In the audience! I have to go to them! I have to see them!" And with that, Evan ran past Jeffries and down the backstage stairs.

"Evan!" Mr. Jeffries called as he followed the boy out. Who exactly had he seen? And how could he possibly know they were his parents?

Following the excited boy down the stairs and behind the stage, Mr. Jeffries saw Evan frozen in place while Lyla Novacek stood opposite him, smiling. Tears were in her eyes and her hand covered her mouth in awe. A man stood behind her, pride clear as day on his face. A fool could see the resemblance when the three stood together. Richard Jeffries wasn't sure how Evan knew that these two good people (and they did seem like good people at a glance to Mr. Jeffries) were his parents, but he was willing to believe what Evan had said - maybe it was the music that brought this family together.

Lyla knelt on the ground and whispered, "Evan."

Slowly, he walked towards her, afraid that she might disappear if he ran. His legs felt like rubber and his heart was beating so hard that he thought it would break out of his chest. This was his mother, the woman who he could feel looking at the same moon he did on his loneliest nights. He was sure of it. She was beautiful. An angel.

Lyla opened her arms, inviting him in. He took two more shaky steps forward before losing all control and falling into her arms, sobbing. She held him tight, never wanting to let him go. They held each other close for a long while, each remembering moments of despair and sadness and loneliness, and the comfort they both found in the thought of the other.

Louis regarded the scene with tears in his own eyes. He had so many questions, but in that moment, all he saw and needed was the pure love that was evident between mother and child.

"I played for you," their son whispered in his mother's ear. "Did you follow the music to find me?"

Lyla nodded silently, tears continuing to stream down her face. "I heard the music. I knew it was you. I've missed you for so long." She leaned back and held him at arm's length, trying to get a good look at his face. She pushed his now dishevelled hair back off of his forehead and smiled. After a time, Lyla turned and took Louis' hand, bringing him down to kneel beside her. "This is your father," she said softly, beaming.

Louis nodded. "August," he whispered.

August smiled, "this was my concert."

Louis grinned, "I gathered that. C'mere." He pulled August into a hug and ruffled his hair before releasing him.

Lyla smiled. "August?"

"He has apparently been using the name August Rush for almost as long as he's been gone from the boy's home. That's why it was so much harder to find him," Mr. Jeffries said.

"August! Dean MacNeil wants you ba-" Hope called before stopping short. "Uh... sorry. August, you have to come back on stage."

Lyla stood, still smiling. "Go. We'll be here when you get back. I promise." She leaned down and kissed his forehead and Louis patted his shoulder. August ran after Hope; with a quick glance back to his parents, he then followed her up the steps to the stage.

"Lyla," Louis whispered, lacing his fingers into hers.

She turned, looking into his soulful blue eyes, and melted. He looked the same as he had a decade ago. Boyish yet rugged; playful yet serious.

"What's going on?" Louis whispered, chuckling softly.

Lyla let out a laugh. She introduced him to Mr. Jeffries and told him the story of what had happened from the last day she saw Louis, right up to the present moment. Louis pulled her into a passionate hug. "I'm sorry you had to do that on your own. I should ha' been there."

"You tried," she sighed deeply, taking in his comforting scent – leather, sweat, cologne. "I know you tried. I'm sorry you didn't know."

Louis shook his head. "What d'you say we stay in the present and look to the future? Forget the past. At least for now."

Lyla nodded, "I'd like that very much."


	2. Reunion

"So... this is it," Lyla said, turning on the hallway lights of her apartment.

"Wow," Louis responded, placing Lyla's cello against the wall. "It's... fancy."

Lyla laughed. "I guess it kind of is."

"It's good."

Lyla smiled while silence filled the space between them. She shuffled awkwardly before turning abruptly and making her way to the living room. Louis followed.

"I- I'm just going to change. Make yourself... at home," Lyla said before going down another hall to her bedroom.

Louis took of his jacket and draped it over the sofa. He took in the décor and tried to learn as much as he could about the girl he loved beyond all reason. She liked art; the only images and pictures around the apartment were painted pieces. There weren't any photographs. In one corner, Lyla had a music stand and stool. There was a large bookcase against one wall filled primarily with sheet music. He liked that music was such a big part of her life as it was in his. And his son's.

The kitchen was spotless, as was the rest of the apartment. She liked to keep things clean. He wondered if she had a cleaning service. Down at the end of the hall that Lyla has disappeared into was the bathroom. On the left, was a closed door – probably Lyla's room. On the left was a spare bedroom. Inside the room was a single bed with blue covers. The walls were decorated with more paintings that were playful or featured something musical. On the dresser was a framed picture of August – or Evan – in a red sweater. He knew the bed was there as a wish. A hope that Lyla would find her son.

Louis sat on the bed in the dark and took the room in. He wondered how their family would work. If it could.

He heard Lyla's door open and, after a minute, heard her call his name.

"I'm here," he called back.

She turned slowly around the corner, smiling her beautiful smile. She had changed into pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Louis marvelled at how good she looked in anything.

"I wanted to create a place for him. I knew I'd find him." She sat down next to him. "You know, even when I thought he died as a baby, I still felt him. I thought I could hear him sometimes." Lyla let out a laugh, "this all feels like a dream. Like I'm going to wake up and all the joy I feel will disappear. Like before."

Louis grasped her hand. "You'll never have to feel that way again. He's here now. Once we've jumped t'rough all their hoops, signed all the papers, he can be here. He'll sleep in this bed in no time." He laid himself down with one arm under his head. "And I'll be here too. If you'll have me."

Lyla laid herself down next to Louis, "of course I'll have you." She took his free hand in one of hers and held it softly. "For nearly twelve years, I've only had my mind on two things – my son... and his father."

Louis didn't hide his surprise. She had talked so much of finding her long lost son, that he never really considered the idea that she could have thought about him as much as he thought about her during their absence from one another.

Lyla noticed and smiled the smile that drove him crazy. "Lizzy tried setting me up with her fiancé's friends – I guess he's her husband now – but they always had the same flaw. They weren't you."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

"I was only nineteen and you ruined me for other men," Lyla said playfully.

Louis laughed, "t' same goes for you."

"Are we crazy?"

"Yes."

"Normal people don't fall in love after one night, let alone at first sight."

Louis propped himself up on his side, "if more people met their soul mates, there would be a lot more of that happening." He smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

She eagerly met him part way and wrapped her arms around his neck. In an instant, she was thrown back to that night on the roof top under the moon where they first met, first kissed, and first made love.

Lyla pulled back and looked intently into Louis' blue eyes. His eyes seemed able to find every part of her soul just by looking into hers; at the same time, she felt she could see into his soul and understand exactly who he was.

Wordlessly, Lyla rose from the bed and lead Louis across the hall into her own bedroom.

Louis watched her intently, interested in every movement that she made. She was not of this world. Lyla was all grace, beauty, and love. He couldn't get enough of just being in her presence. He used to think that if he were to ever find Lyla again that the spell she had cast upon him all those years ago, bewitching him body and soul, would be broken. He thought that his fixation over her might have been based solely on his youth and the romance of that night. But now he found that wasn't the case. Lyla was enchanting on all levels and he found that he would love her forever and always, no matter the circumstance.

He let her lead him to her bed. Louis could see she was nervous, almost shy. She had changed in many ways, but stayed the same in others. She sat on the side of her bed. As he did their first night, he leaned in and kissed her softly, his touch sweet and passionate.

* * *

Lyla awoke the next morning, ecstatic. Before she could even comprehend why, she was happy. Quickly, the events from the night before came flooding back. Louis was holding her in his arms, his breath even and deep. She smiled and laced her fingers with his. Lyla thought of her son and wondered how much like his father he was. He had his eyes, that was certain. She wondered what else he had inherited. Would he grow to be in a band? Or did he prefer classical like her? She wondered how much could be passed down and what else she could teach him. She wondered a million other things too, each right after the other.

Louis sensed that she was awake, her voice silent but her mind shouting. He awoke and kissed the back of her head. "Good morning," he whispered.

"It is," she responded happily. She turned around and faced him. Lyla could feel his heart beating as fast as hers, which was very comforting.

He smiled, "what's on your mind?"

She let out a laugh. "Everything."

Louis kissed her, "where should we start?"

Lyla sighed. "We should... get dressed. Pick August up for breakfast?" It felt weird calling him August when she knew him as Evan. Somehow, 'August' seemed right.

Louis nodded and stretched. Lyla slipped out of bed, a sheet wrapped around her figure. He watched her walk quickly to her bathroom, and admired her a little longer as he listened to the sound of the shower begin. Then he sat up and walked down to the hall to shower himself.


	3. Yes

"I di'n't realize it was a church we'd be going to," Louis commented as he and Lyla's taxi pulled up outside the Hunts Point church where their son had been allowed to stay for the weekend. "These clothes aren't exactly me Sunday best."

"We're here for August. I'm sure you could wear a five-day-old potato sack and he'd still be thrilled."

Louis and Lyla stepped out of the cab and walked up the steps of the church. It was an old building and looked like it had seen better days, but there was clear beauty in its age. The front doors were wide open, awaiting the first arrivals for Sunday services. Inside, the church was one of the smaller Louis had ever been in, and beautiful in its simplicity. As a boy, Louis could never wrap his head around the pomp and circumstance that accompanied Catholic masses that his mother dragged he and his brother to.

There were a few people seated, although the service wouldn't start for another hour. Louis and Lyla walked quietly to the front, hand in hand, searching for someone who could direct them to their son.

"Can I help you?" came a voice from behind them.

They both turned to see a man who, judging by his attire, would be The Reverend.

"Reverend James?" Lyla asked.

"Yes," he said with a kind smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I-I'm Lyla Novacek. This is my- this is Louis Connelly. We're here to see our son. August."

The Reverend's smiled widened and he held out his hand, "welcome! I tell you, we were amazed to hear the story of what had happened. How you found each other." Both Lyla and Louis shook his hand. "He's upstairs. Come with me." They followed him as he led them through a hall and up a spiral stairway. "What do you both do for a living?" he asked as they climbed.

"I was a music teacher when I lived in Chicago. But for the past few months, I had really only been preparing for last night's concert."

"And you, Mr. Connelly?" The Reverend led the couple down another hallway, which opened up into a larger room.

"I worked in business in San Francisco, but have been living and performing here wit' me band recently."

Reverend James stopped and gestured to a sofa in the large room, still smiling. "I'm happy to hear that August's parents are as involved with music as he is, and I have a feeling that you'll show him more than he could ever see here, including immense love. But I have encountered many children and parents who lost children to the state, despite the love they had for them. I have communicated with the state on these matters quite often. My advice to you – and I hope that you take it to heart – is to find jobs with continuous and stable incomes. The state doesn't care how much money you made from one-time deals, or how much money you have saved up. It doesn't matter unless you have more money coming in and can provide a stable life for your child – at least as stable a one you could have with a child like August. Before your meeting with Mr. Jeffries tomorrow, decide where you'll live, what you'll do, and what kind of a life you'll provide August. Answer all their questions correctly, please the judge and state, and you'll be a family in no time."

Lyla smiled, "thank you. We'll do our absolute best. I promise."

Reverend James nodded, "good. Now, if you'll wait here, I'll tell August you've arrived. You're the only thing he has been talking about since the concert last night."

As The Reverend left, Louis sighed. "That's a lot t' take in. A lot t' t'ink about." He suddenly felt very nervous. He couldn't help wondering what would happen to he and Lyla if they were unable to gain custody of August. His mind was racing a million miles a minute, thinking of all the wrong things he could say. But his mind was put at ease when he felt Lyla take his hand.

"It will be okay, you know. The universe didn't bring us all together only to tear us apart."

"'t happened before," Louis whispered, but he did feel better knowing that she was there.

"I think we've reached our quota."

August came rushing out of the door that Reverend James had disappeared through moments earlier, but stopped when he saw his parents. His initial thought was to run into his parents' arms upon their reunion, but seeing them there made him pause. He wanted to take it all in.

August's father looked wise and kind; his mother was the same, but more beautiful than he could ever have imagined and visibly brimming with love. She stood and walked over to him, Louis following soon after.

Lyla walked halfway to him before, stopping and opening her arms. She couldn't find words, but the action was enough. He walked quickly to her and they embraced. Louis ruffled August's hair and hugged them both.

After a long moment of silence and tears, August sniffled and said, "can we stay for the service?" Before either Louis or Lyla could respond, he continued. "The choir is really good, and my friend, Hope, has a beautiful voice."

They hardly wanted to deny August the first thing he ever asked of them, so they agreed to stay.

The three of them sat in the back, listening to the service. Lyla and Louis found that the choir and little girl were as talented as August had described. By the time the service was over, it was noon. The trio said their goodbyes to Reverend James and promised to have August back at a reasonable hour.

"I s'pose breakfast has turned to lunch. Where do you have in mind?" Louis said to neither Lyla or August in particular as they walked down the church steps.

August shrugged, "I don't really know the city all that well."

"Well, what kind of food do you like?"

August shrugged once more, "anything, I guess," he said with a smile.

Louis patted his son's shoulder, "just like me in that. I know a little diner close to my hotel. Has a little bit of everything?"

"Sounds great," Lyla said, smiling.

They stayed at the diner for a long time, eating their lunch, having dessert, and learning about one another. Louis told them about his time as a boy in Ireland – about his mother who had died when he was nine and his father who left he and his brother when Louis was fifteen; about his brother Marshall who was both a right pain in his backside and his best friend. He told them about his band that had started playing together in their early teens and made the trip to San Francisco and then New York together. He and Lyla talked about the night they met and the events that followed, all to August's invested interest. Lyla talked about what happened when he was born and what her father had done. She talked about her father's role in her life and his illness back in Chicago. She talked about music and her time in Juilliard.

August told them both about his life growing up at the boy's home and what made him leave; he talked about the bullies and the music, about Wizard and Arthur; about the church, Hope, and Reverend James, and about his own time at Juilliard.

It was almost three before they decided to pay their bill and continue on their way.

"What did you want to do today, August?" Lyla asked, brushing his hair from his face.

"Can I see where you live?" he asked.

"I think we can do that for you."

"Would you mind if I stop by me hotel? I'm afraid Marshall'll think I fell of the face of the planet and I could do with a change o' clothes."

He led them down the street to a hole-in-the-wall hotel, usually reserved for travellers all over the world and perfect for a band. "You two can wait in the lounge and I'll be down in two-shakes," Louis urged.

"Can I meet your brother?" August asked, hopeful.

Louis shot Lyla a look, as if pleading for them to stay downstairs, but Lyla shook her head and smiled. "I think that'd be a great idea. Besides, I'd like to meet him too."

Louis ran his hand through his hair and said, "you have." Lyla, confused, didn't respond. "D'you remember waking up the night after we met? That was courtesy of good ol' Marshall."

Lyla laughed, remembering. "Even so."

He shrugged, "I guess I can't stop you. But ignore whatever he says. I mean it. Nothing but rubbish comes from that mouth o' his."

They walked up the three flights of stairs to the room he and Marshall were sharing. When Louis opened the door, the room was dark, implying that Marshall was sleeping. "Jus' wait here," he said to August and Lyla, motioning for them to stay in the hall.

He could see Marshall lying in his bed, naked and thankfully covered by his blanket. He could hear someone in the shower – Louis guessed that it was a girl from the night before. The floor was covered with all variety of clothes and empty bottles. Clearly a party had taken place in Louis' absence.

Louis grabbed a pillow from his own bed and threw it at Marshall, who groaned. "It's t'ree o'clock Marshall, get up and get dressed. I have... visitors."

"Ah, Lou," Marshall almost shouted, stretching. "Take 'em somewheres else. I've got me a-" he looked around the room, confused.

"She's in the shower, Marshall. "'Sides, they want to meet you against all me warnings."

Marshall rolled out of bed and Louis turned on the lights as his brother pulled on some pants.

"Good Christ, Marshall. Help me clean this place up."

As they finished cleaning up the bottles and Marshall threw all pieces of clothing but one shirt into his bag, the woman from the shower exited in a party dress.

"Oh, you're up," she said, startled to see the two men awake and cleaning. The girl must've been ten years Marshall's junior. "I've, uh- thanks for la-"

"Yeah, yeah. Get goin'," Marshall said, waving her off.

The girl, visibly relieved, whispered, "thanks," and grabbed her heels and clutch before running out the door.

Almost immediately after the door closed, there was a soft knock.

Louis took a deep breath, "Marshall, you've got to be nice. I beg you, brother."

Marshall chuckled and said, "I'm always nice."

Louis shot him a look before slowly opening the door and wordlessly apologizing to Lyla before she and August stepped in.

The room was better than Lyla had expected it would be. It smelled faintly of beer and sweat, but was otherwise well-furnished and spacious. Almost immediately, she could tell which side of the room was occupied with which brother. Marshall's side had a garbage bin full of empty bottles; the bed's blankets were balled up and thrown on the bed, and his bag was overflowing with unfolded clothes. Louis' bag and guitar were propped neatly in his corner of the room and that was the only sign that someone else was staying there.

Louis watched as Marshall's memory of Lyla came flashing back, "you know Lyla," he said. Louis could see the anger and protective brother about to explode from Marshall and quickly diverted his attention to the other visitor, "and this is August." He put his hand on his son's shoulder, bringing him forward.

Almost immediately, Marshall's mood changed as Louis hoped it would. If anyone would recognized Louis' son, it was Marshall. The boy's resemblance to Louis was unmistakable.

"My God, Lou," Marshall said, looking between the three of them. "Is he-?"

"August is me and Lyla's son," Louis said, nodding.

"'Course he is, Louie. Look at him. Looks the same as you when you was a boy." He stared at August, bewildered, for a moment longer before the anger returned. "Lou, I need to talk to you."

Louis nodded and stepped out into the hallway with his brother who waited for him to close the hotel door before starting.

"Are you out of your damned mind, Lou? What has it been? Ten years? More? And she just suddenly shows up to tell you about this kid? What, did the princess's inheritance run out, so now she's hunting for some money? The kid's clearly yours. There's no doubt about tha'. But you can't let her sucker you! She-"

"First off, Marshall, she thought the kid was dead until only a few months back. Second, she could do just fine on her own if that weren't the case. She's not suckerin' me, Marshall. I finally found her and I'm no' letting her go this time."

"She thought the kid was dead? That's the story she's goin' with?"

"It's a long story Marshall, just let it go and trust me."

"I don' have nowhere to be, baby bro. Why don' you tell me this long story and then I'll see if I can trust you."

Louis sighed and sat on the floor with his back leaning against the wall. Marshall followed suit and listened as Louis told him about August's birth, Lyla's discovery, and their reunion the night before, including his meeting with August the afternoon prior.

"So the kid's a guitar player like his da'?" Marshall said after the story was told.

Louis laughed, "that would be what you take from it all."

In the hotel room, August and Lyla could hear every word being said from beginning to end. Lyla was embarrassed but August seemed unaffected. While the voices got loud and then quiet again, August walked to the guitar case that was propped up in the corner. He laid it down on the bed and opened it. It was the guitar he had played with Louis the day before. In the case were a series of pictures of his dad with his band mates, happy and almost certainly drunk. Lyla watched August remove the guitar from the case carefully, smiling all the time.

He paused as he saw another picture beneath the guitar for safe-keeping. It was a Polaroid of his mother and father when they were younger, sleeping.

"Look," he said, holding the picture out to Lyla.

She smiled and took the photo from his hand. As soon as she saw the picture, tears began to well up in her eyes. She laughed. Everything still felt like a dream.

When Louis and Marshall came back in the room, August was on Louis' bed, playing a song without a name while Lyla looked on in admiration, a photo in her hand.

August stopped playing when he saw them. Marshall walked up to him and knelt on the ground. "So, I guess you're my nephew?"

August nodded, "yes, sir."

Marshall laughed and stood up, slapping him on the back, maybe a little too hard. "Didja hear that, Lou? I'm a 'sir'."

Louis smiled at August's slightly shocked face. "Remember what I said, August. Don't listen to a word he says."

"Is that what he told ya?" Marshall asked August.

Again, August nodded.

"Well, I say don't listen to you da'. I am full of info about your old man that would make your head spin and your mam blush. But I'll tell you all that when you're older."

August laughed, embarrassment clear on his face.

"Lyla, is it?" he said, turning to her.

She smiled, trying to appear tough. "you know very well that it is."

Marshall smirked, "ah well, I s'pose I do. Now, you left me bro in quite a state all those years ago. I'm not saying 't was all your fault. I'm just saying that if you ever do that again, you'll have me t' answer to. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she said, slyly, earning laughter from all three in the room.

"Well, we just came here so I could change into some fresh clothes and then we'll be on our way." Louis opened his bag. Unlike his brother's bag, Louis' clothes were all neatly folded.

"Ah, Lou," Marshall said, "why don' you just take the whole thing? I know you want to. I know Lyla wants you to. You're footing half the bill no matter what, so you might as well be happy."

Louis looked to Lyla who smiled shyly and gave a quick nod.

They packed up his bag and guitar. As they were heading out, Marshall said, "I'll see you soon kid. Then I'll tell you some of those stories."

August smiled and nodded, taking hold of his mother's hand as the trio left.


	4. Beginnings

**A/N: I wasn't going to make any of these, but I wanted to clarify something before you read. Now, I know August is a musical prodigy and pretty smart overall, but as far as I can tell, he isn't a genius in other subject areas and does not hold a high school diploma. In the film, he can be seen in Juilliard classes (also apparently, it is spelled Juilliard, not Julliard, which means my whole life has been a lie) with students who appear to be college-aged despite him only having a fifth or sixth grade education. So the change I made in my story is that August is in pre-college courses at Juilliard (though still, say, in high school-level classes). I did some extensive Googling and this is what I've decided. And seeing as how it is my story, what I say goes. He gets an advanced musical education as well as a standard education. Everyone wins. Now you may continue.**

 **PS, while I'm here, I may as well apologize for all spelling and grammatical errors, as well as typos. The most editing I'm doing is glancing over the last sentence I wrote or coming across an error by chance. Pretend it's perfect. Okay, now I'm done.**

* * *

 _Three months later..._

It was nearing the end of August. Louis and Lyla had spent the summer signing forms, appearing in front of a judge, and shaping their future.

They decided that Lyla's apartment could be ample space for the three of them for the time being. It was in a good area and close to Juilliard so that August could continue his musical education. They were also close to good private and public schools so that he could continue his education in all other subject areas.

Lyla decided that she would tutor music part time, but also accepted an offer to be a permanent cellist with the New York Philharmonic as one of the cellists retired after thirty-five years with the symphony. Louis had been able to keep the Mad Connelly Brothers fully booked every weekend in venues around New York. During the week, he was back in an office with a great recommendation from his boss in San Francisco.

During the summer, their evenings were spent with each other, on the phone with August, or with music in one way or another. Louis' band would play Friday and Saturday nights, and Lyla would watch if she could. Regardless of what was going on in their lives, Sunday was always reserved for visiting August in the boy's home just outside of the city. Sometimes they'd take him into the city for the day, but most of the time, they'd stay in the area.

It was a Wednesday when Lyla and Louis appeared in court to find out whether or not they would gain custody of August. Richard Jeffries had helped move the case along and the special nature of their case also helped. Louis and Lyla's lawyers convinced the state that they were at fault for the boy being mistakenly put up for adoption because they did not confirm the mother's signature. The state seemed to agree. The three months was an extremely short amount of time to wait when it came to the custody of a child in the system.

Lyla and Louis stood in front of the judge in their best clothes, eager and hopeful.

"Ms. Novacek and Mr. Connelly," the judge began. "Your case is quite unique to the State of New York and will hopefully be used as a basis for the future where giving up a child for adoption is concerned. As I understand it, you talk with your son over the telephone almost every evening and manage to see him every weekend. This shows me you are able and willing to spend time with your child. With stable jobs, an excellent relationship with each other and your son, and outstanding character references from numerous people for the both of you, I see no reason for you not to have legal guardianship over Mr. Taylor. On behalf of the State of New York, I hereby grant you custody of Evan Taylor, effective immediately."

Whoops and hollers came from a small group consisting of Louis' band mates with more appropriate applause from other less rowdy friends accompanying them.

Lyla began crying as soon as the judge's gavel sounded and she hugged Louis before crouching for August as he ran into her arms. She picked him up and Louis embraced them both.

The rest of the day was spent moving August out of the boy's home and into what would be their family apartment.

* * *

The days leading up to August's first day of school were spent registering at and preparing for a nearby public school. Public school had won out over private school because Louis had argued that private school wasn't the most diverse of places and churned out lunatics.

"You know, I only ever attended private schools," Lyla countered.

"Yeah, and you fell in love with a man the first night you met him after he told you that he talked to the moon." Louis smirked, "you're not a shining example to be using."

Lyla slapped him on his arm playfully.

"'Sides, he'll be at a private school every Saturday. That ought to be enough. He'll be successful anywhere."

They visited several schools in the area on one day from which August chose his favourite.

On the Saturday before school would start, Lyla and August accompanied The Mad Connelly Brothers to their show. Before the show started, Louis pulled August aside.

"August, I was thinking- but I wanted to see what you t'ought first. I was thinking I'd ask yer mam to marry me tonight. During our set. What d'you think about that?"

August grinned widely, "I think that's a great idea!"

Louis nodded, "the thing that I've been strugglin' with is that it might be too soon. Uncle Marshall says I'd be crazy. After all, we haven't known each other all that long."

"But you've been in love for a long time."

"That's the truth," Louis said, nodding.

"She'll say yes no matter when you ask. It doesn't make sense to wait," August urged.

"Okay," Louis said. "I'll ask her at the end of our set. Go find her. And don't say a word." He patted August on the shoulder before he ran off with a smile.

August watched his father perform for the first time, wondering when the last song would play. They played six or seven songs before Louis was given a stool to sit on.

"Now, usually we play this song a little earlier and end with one of our more energetic pieces to keep you going wit' the next performer. But they're going to have to forgive me just this once. I'm going to tell you a little story. About twelve years ago, I met this beauty of a girl and spent a wonderful night wit' her. She was smart, loved music deep down to her soul like I did, and didn't think me crazy for some of th' t'ings I said to her. We tried to meet the next day, but she was forced back t' her home in Chicago and I never saw her again. I wrote a song about it, but we won't be playing that tonight." Louis smiled, "the song we're going to play is th' other one I wrote in her honour jus' before I found her again this past Spring. I'm not going to tell ya the whole story because we're running out of time, but the night I found her again was also the night we both met our son for the first time. As you'd imagine, this song holds a whole lot of meaning for me and I would like to sing it for you all tonight. For you and Lyla, who is sitting with our son down in the front here. Lyla, you'll have to forgive me for what will come after the song. This is 'Something Inside.'"

On cue, the band played the first few notes and Louis began to sing: " _When the one thing you're looking for is nowhere to be found..."_

Lyla smiled while the song played. She closed her eyes and listened. This was her favourite song that Louis had written and she always enjoyed it when he played it for her.

As the final notes played, Lyla and August cheered with the rest of the crowd, the former oblivious to what would come next.

"Thank you all. Now, we have time for one more song, but I'm going to talk some more instead, perhaps against my brothers' objections. Perhaps against yours. Me mam died when I was a boy, but before she did, she gave me some things. Some objects, some advice. One thing she gave me is something I'd like to give someone else. Ever since this past May, I've spent as much time as possible with me new family, learning as much about them as possible. 't has only been 'bout t'ree months, but the love I have for Lyla has been continuous since that first night we met."

Lyla began to realize what was happening and looked to August who had his eyes fixed on his dad, a smile stretched wide across his face.

"So, Lyla," Louis said as he stood from the stool on which he sat and fished something out of his pocket. He knelt down on one knee and continued with a smile, "would you do me the honour of becoming me wife?"

Tears were streaming down Lyla's face as she nodded, not sure what else to do.

"Lou," Marshall's voice came over the microphone, "I think you shocked the girl t' death. But she seems to be saying yes." Cheers came from people throughout the audience, "c'mon up here, girly."

Louis stood as August pulled his mother's arm, half dragging her up to the stage.

Her hand was covering her mouth as she made her way onto the stage towards Louis, her face wet with tears.

"Is that a yes?" Louis asked her as he wiped tears from her cheeks.

Unable to speak, Lyla nodded furiously.

Louis took her left hand and slipped his mother's ring on his new fiancée's finger, earning more cheers from the crowd. He pulled her into a passionate kiss.

"She most definitely said yes," Marshall shouted into the microphone. "Welcome to the Connelly clan, sweetheart. For better _or_ worse." The crowd cheered louder, "thank you all. Now we'll get out of here to make room for Poor Unknown. Their set'll be miles less sappy. See y' next time!"


	5. Birthdays

**A/N: Thanks for still reading. Now I'm going to make these all the time. Anyway, as you may have figured (or maybe not, I don't know you), the story is making some leaps. I just wanted to write about different moments in their lives. For example, this chapter is about their first birthdays together. One will be the wedding. I'm not sure beyond that yet. But I do know that it's not going to be a continuous story. Lots of jumping around. Ye be warned.**

* * *

 _December 2007_

August's thirteenth birthday was made to be a very special occasion. Not only was it the first birthday that all three of them would get to celebrate as a family, but it was also the first birthday that August actually looked forward to.

He had been living with his parents for just over three months and finally felt like all the pieces of his life were fitting together.

It was the week before August's birthday when Louis and Lyla has asked him what he wanted to do on the weekend to celebrate. During the day on Saturday, August would be in classes at Juilliard, but Louis and Lyla had set time aside for the evening to do whatever he liked. Louis had not booked any shows and Lyla was free from Philharmonic duties.

"I'd just like to see my friends and family, and play music," August said simply.

Louis smiled, "I think we can arrange that." The kid was a musical genius, but he enjoyed the simple things in life.

So in their spare time, Lyla and Louis prepared a party for their son. He invited some of his friends from school that he had made, but the guest list consisted mostly of adults that cared for August – Louis' band mates, Lizzy and her husband, and the people from the church who had helped August in his time of need. Everybody was invited to bring something musical, whether it be their instrument, voice, or a recording. August's favourite thing in the world was to play and hear music, and that's what they'd do.

The apartment was filled to the brim with people. Lyla had provided food and Louis had provided drink. Everyone was having a great time, though August's friends from his public school seemed a little overwhelmed while the ones from Juilliard fit in well.

As guests began toying with their instruments, Lyla tried unsuccessfully to interrupt and speak over them. No one heard her and it was Louis who had to shout to get their attention.

"Thank you," Lyla said shyly as Louis planted a kiss on her cheek. In the loudest voice she could muster, which wasn't all that loud, Lyla began to speak. "Now, August's only request for his birthday was for his friends and family to celebrate with him through music. No gifts were requested. Just that. And I know he is very happy that so many people showed up for him." August was sitting on the sofa with some of his school friends, his guitar in his lap and a smile on his face. "However, there is one more thing Louis and I would like to give him and it's something that has been a few months in the making."

Lyla was holding a piece of paper in her hand. "When August was born and placed into the system, he was given the name Evan Taylor. When he ventured on his own into the city at just eleven years old, he adopted the name August Rush. He liked and has been going by the name August ever since. So when Louis and I gained legal custody of him, I put in an official request to have his name changed. Here in my hand, I have August's new birth certificate, listing both Louis and I as his parents and his legal name as August Connelly."

Louis was slightly taken aback to hear August have his name rather than hers, but August was ecstatic. He leaned his guitar against the sofa and ran over to his mother as the guests applauded. She showed him the paper and he gave her and Louis big hugs before returning to his guitar and friends.

As the guests returned their attention to the music, Louis spoke to Lyla: "Connelly? I'm a little bit surprised you didn't go with Novacek."

"I'll be changing my name to Connelly eventually," Lyla responded. "I figured it would make more sense to give him your name right away."

Louis smiled and brought her hand to his lips. "What do you say we join in the fun?" Lyla nodded and the two found their instruments to join the others.

* * *

 _July 2007_

"Whatcha got planned for your birthday, baby bro?" Marshall asked Louis over drinks after their show one Saturday night.

"When is your birthday?!" Lyla added. She and Louis had been getting to know each other better, but that was one thing they hadn't yet talked about – when their birthdays were.

"Next Friday. The 27th," Louis responded. "I don' know. I don' really feel like doing anything," he added, answering Marshall.

"The 27th? That's less than a week away!" Lyla exclaimed, "what am I supposed to get you in such a short time?"

At the same time, Marshall said, "ah, well you're comin' out with me and the boys for once then."

"You don' have to get me nothin', Lyla," Louis said. "Marshall, if it's me birthday, shouldn't I choose what I do?"

"Louie, you never choose the fun t'ings, so the decision has to be left to me. Friday after th' show, we're taking you out. Sorry, missus."

…

Despite Louis telling Lyla not to get him anything, she had. She asked her best friend, Lizzy, for ideas and decided to surprise him the Thursday before his birthday.

He had called to say he'd be late. Louis was putting in extra hours following the recent firing of a few employees and it was becoming more stressful than he liked. He didn't mind working in an office for a 9-5 day, but when it turned into overtime almost daily, he began to hate it.

Louis walked in the door after 7 that night and fell onto the sofa, hungry and exhausted.

"Louis?" Lyla called as she walked from their bedroom to the living room.

He sat up and she sat next to him on the sofa.

"How was your day?" she asked, noting how tired he looked.

"Ah," Louis said, sighing. "If I don' ever see that place again, I'll die a happy man."

Lyla chuckled, "so, as good as every other day this week?"

"Mhmm," he responded, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the sofa's back. He wrapped his arms around Lyla, who cuddled into him.

Louis was about to doze off when he felt Lyla sit up. "What is it?" he asked.

After a moment, she spoke. "I know you're tired and said I didn't need to get you anything for your birthday, but I did."

"Yeah?" Louis said, sitting up. "What'd you get me?"

"Well, I had Lizzy help me," she said, standing up. "It's kind of embarrassing, but... I'll be right back." Lyla almost ran to their bedroom.

Louis noticed that her face had become red before she disappeared.

She returned several minutes later in a long silk silver robe, her heels clicking slowly on the hardwood floors.

Louis watched her walk from the hallway to the windows. Her hair was let down and her make up was done; the robe showed off her figure. She closed the drapes and then turned to face him. She looked down at the ground for a moment, as if composing herself.

When she looked at Louis, he was smirking, waiting.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but instead took a deep breath and said a quiet, "okay."

Lyla untied her robe and let it slip to the ground, revealing an outfit that Louis would never have thought she would ever wear. Her bra was sheer black with a white bow between her breasts, and her black thong was covered by a small, sheer black skirt with white ruffles and a bow. The skirt connected to thigh-high lace stockings with black garters. Louis grinned at her uncharacteristic appearance.

"What?" Lyla said, smiling.

"I don' feel all that tired anymore," Louis replied, standing from the sofa and walking to her.

* * *

 _March 2008_

Lyla had always been a homebody and enjoyed the simple things. If she could help it, she never went to parties; she always preferred to keep things low-key.

Her birthday was on a Sunday in March 2008 and her only request was to spend it with Louis and August, which wasn't very different from most Sundays.

In the morning, Louis and August woke up early to make her breakfast in bed, which turned into breakfast in the living room after they realized they didn't have anything to bring it to her on.

While she ate, Louis and August played a song on their guitars that they had written together; music by August, lyrics by his father. Lyla smiled and applauded when they finished, tears fresh in her eyes.

Later, the family of three decided to visit Central Park, having visited the park several times since their reunion nearly a year previous. They spent the entire day walking around, listening to different musicians, visiting the zoo, and eating foods from various vendors. They were exhausted by the time they returned home in the evening.

To end the night, the three of them watched a film of Lyla's choosing in the living room. By nine o'clock, they were all ready for bed. August said goodnight and went to his room. Lyla tidied up while Louis disappeared.

When he was finished, she locked the door and turned off the lights until the only one left was the one in her and Louis' bedroom. She walked in, expecting him to have passed out on the bed, but he wasn't there.

"Louis?" she called, closing the bedroom door behind her.

"In here," he responded from the master bathroom.

Lyla followed his voice. The bathroom was dark but for a faint glow. Inside, she saw Louis set down a candle on the counter before facing her.

He had filled the bathtub up with water and bubbles, and had lit candles all around the bathroom.

"I figured you'd like a bath to help you relax," he said.

"It's perfect," Lyla said, walking to him and brushing her lips over his. "Will you join me?"

Louis smiled softly, "of course."


	6. History

Lyla woke one Saturday morning, the arms of her love wrapped firmly around her, which had become the norm. She liked waking up like that, feeling warm and safe. As soon as she awoke, her heart would start racing and she could feel the overwhelming love. She hoped that the feeling would never go away.

She shifted in Louis' arms so that she could see his sleeping face. His expression was always so soft and she wondered what he dreamed about. Lyla always seemed to be the one who woke up first and knew he'd wake up shortly after, so she waited, admiring him.

"What are you looking at?" Louis said, groggily, sensing that he was being watched.

Lyla answered with a kiss.

Louis opened his eyes and stretched.

They sat in silence as the sun rose higher in the sky.

"What're you thinking about?" Louis asked, feeling that he may fall back to sleep.

"Would you ever want another child?" Lyla asked hesitantly.

Louis thought for a moment. "Well- well, I s'pose I've always wondered what it'd be like to have a daughter. Maybe name her after me mam. She had a brother and me da' had three brothers; most all my relatives have been men. It's all well and good, but it'd be nice to have... a break in that. Do you want more children?"

Lyla nodded, "I love August and am so thankful to have him in my life again. I think he'd be a great big brother. I hope I don't sound horrible for saying that I want to raise a child from infancy. I missed most of August's firsts and I constantly wonder what it would be like."

"You don' sound horrible. I'd like to see those things too," Louis said. "Did you want to start trying for one?"

Lyla smiled, "not yet. Soon, but not yet." She paused. "Tell me about your mother. And your family. Do you have a lot of relatives over in Ireland?"

"I've got me plenty of uncles over there. Cousins, aunts. We never really talked even before I left though. I'd like to go back and visit though. Someday. Before me mother died, we saw her brother a lot. Afterwards, not so much. I sometimes wonder what he's been doing all this time.

"Mam was a sweet woman until you made her angry but she was kind hearted. She dragged me and Marshall to mass every Sunday and as many other days as possible. She was Catholic but me da' was Protestant. Plenty of arguments over that. It's gotten to the point, though, where I don't really remember what she looked like."

"You don't have any pictures of her?"

"Nah, we didn't really take pictures. And any ones we do have from back then were taken by her. I do know that I took after her – she gave me her eyes and hair; Marshall is almost a spitting image of our dad."

"It sounds like she was beautiful. What was her name?"

"Molly. Molly Rose Connelly."

"That's a good name," Lyla said, smiling.

"Mhmm... She died when I was nine and Marshall was thirteen. She had been sick for awhile, and it finally took her one night when I was reading to her. She liked getting me to read from this old book of Irish fairy tales to her every night when she started having to spend all her time in bed. Most of the time, she'd fall asleep while I read. I would keep reading and it would wake her up. She'd thank me and then send me off to bed. When she died, I didn't even know it happened until I got to the end of one of the stories. I just thought she had fallen asleep.

"Me da' was angry at me for a while after that. He hated that he didn't get to say goodbye. Started drinking heavily and Marshall pretty well took over raising me, even though he wasn't much older. Dad left when I was fifteen, just after Marshall turned eighteen. He was thoughtful enough to leave some money, but Marshall quit school right away to start working. We played gigs around the city, which earned a little money, but it was mostly Marshall's work in a warehouse and bar that helped keep us going."

"Is Marshall much like your dad was?"

Louis chuckled, "yeah. Me da' and mam were as opposite as me and Marshall are. We both have parts of each parent, but Marshall got dad's obnoxious nature and charisma while I got mam's more reserved nature, I guess. But Marshall's a better man than dad was."

Lyla nodded, unsure of what to say. She hadn't seen any of Marshall's good nature, but Louis was convinced it was there and she trusted him.

"Where's your mum?" Louis asked, never having asked about her family. "Is there anyone besides your dad?"

"No," Lyla said. "My mom died after giving birth to me. I don't really know the details. I just know they didn't make it to the hospital in time. I think that's part of the reason he was so angry about me being pregnant – he was worried. Both of his parents died before I was born and he didn't have any siblings. I don't really know about my mom's side – if she had living parents or any siblings. I think my dad became so obsessed with keeping me safe that he unintentionally overdid it."

"Will you ever introduce him to August?"

Lyla shifted uncomfortably, "I don't know."

"I know he's done unforgivable things, but he was well-meaning," Louis replied. "August deserves to know where he comes from in any case. I think you might jus' regret it if your dad were to get sick again and die without meeting his only grandchild."

Lyla shrugged, "maybe." She smirked, "maybe after we have that other child of ours."

Louis laughed, "okay. Then, my love."


	7. Chicago

_May 2008_

Lyla sat silently as the old grandfather clock vibrated hollowly in the sitting room of her childhood home.

She had no desire to be there. She would have rather been anywhere else in the world than there in her father's home. But she made a promise. Not just to August, but to Louis and herself as well.

She would be marrying Louis, the unintentional love of her life, in two months with their son cheering them on, along with their friends and Louis' brother. Although the wedding would be perfect just like that, Lyla didn't want to be stuck in the past and she worried that ignoring her father would just be a constant reminder of her life before. She didn't expect to forgive him right away, if ever, but she wanted August to know where he came from as much as August wanted the same.

So she decided to make her way back to Chicago for the weekend to… talk to her father. She wasn't even sure what she could say. She knew that she would tell him about August and Louis; she knew that she would probably say something she'd regret. But that was it. She hadn't thought beyond that./p

Lyla arrived in the morning without warning and was let in by her father's staff. She hadn't wanted to warn him and have him convince her to meet at some high-end restaurant where she couldn't make a scene. She wasn't usually one to make a lot of noise unless she was angry, and she had a feeling that she would be angry and would want to make a lot of noise. She didn't need people around if that happened.

Her father had gone on his morning swim, which he cut short when he was told that his daughter was home. While he was showering and dressing, Lyla waited stoically and scanned the room repeatedly. She had memories of herself in this room as a child and teen, mostly during parties that her father would hold for the elite after whatever performance he or Lyla had featured in. Otherwise, she never spent time in there. It was a formal room.

Her time in the house would most often be spent in the music room or her own bedroom. She and her father were friendly with one another, but she could never remember a time where he acted like a playful father with his daughter. It wasn't like she felt different from her friends though. She went to a private school with other affluent children who had similar relationships with their parents – everything had to be a certain way or it wasn't 'polite'. Even though the relationship was colder than 'normal' children with their parents – colder than Louis with his mother, and colder than August would ever experience with his parents – she couldn't say that she felt unloved. Lyla knew that her father's pressure and nagging was from a place of love, not contempt; people who push their kids wouldn't bother if they didn't care for the child.

Their relationship had been okay.

When she had become pregnant with the child of 'some boy', their relationship grew even more strained. He constantly urged for her to consider giving the child up for adoption, but she wanted to keep the connection to Louis. Even looking back, Lyla knew that was insane – how on Earth could anyone meet and sleep with a person _one_ night and know instantly that they wouldn't find anyone who would compare? It was insane and naïve. And yet, there she was, over a decade later, about to marry that same man after little more than a year together.

When she thought she had lost the baby – when her father let her think that she had lost the baby – Lyla grew more distant. She gave up music, she moved away from her father, and she fell into depression before getting into teaching. Occasionally, she and her father would speak over the phone, but there was always a distance between their words.

The straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak, was the revelation of what had truly happened the night of August's birth.

Her father, clearly thinking that he was on death's door and wanting to be honest, opened up to her and it was the last he had ever spoken to her.

Their relationship was damaged, and there was only the tiniest part of Lyla that wanted to fix it while the rest loathed to think about even seeing his face.

Lyla felt the burning of angry tears all over again and began to truly consider storming out before even having uttered a word to her father until his voice interrupted her thoughts: "Lyla."

She glanced up at him standing in the large archway from the hall and was shocked by his appearance. The last she remembered him – even before the hospital bed – was a robust, though not unhealthily so (at least not completely), man who always had combed hair and never went anywhere unless in a suit. Even Saturday mornings as a girl, she remembered her father looking like he was ready for any business meeting or impromptu recital that came his way. Now, however, he was much different. He had lost weight; not in a sickly, heart-failure-induced way, but in a eat-healthy-and-exercise way, probably brought on by the heart attack, and he wore khakis with a dress shirt and belt – not exactly a bum, but definitely more casual than what she was used to. He looked friendlier this way.

"Good morning," she said a little too coldly, unsure of how else to greet him.

He sat on the sofa opposite her, a mahogany coffee table acting as a barrier between them. "You look well," he said.

"You do too," she said honestly.

The pauses between them felt awkward and much longer than they were.

"I'm glad you're here," her father offered sincerely.

Lyla, unsure about what to say, didn't respond.

"I saw your name on the Philharmonic roster when I was last in New York. I saw you perform in November. You were wonderful, of course."

That took Lyla by surprise. She never thought that her father would be in the audience at one of her performances – or that he wouldn't have some sort of professional critique.

"I would've thought you'd try to contact me if you knew where I was," Lyla said.

"I knew that you went to New York to look for… the child. I didn't think you'd be anywhere near me," he responded, visibly uncomfortable with the mention of his mistake.

"I found him," she blurted with a lot less ceremony than she had expected.

"You did?" He almost sounded relieved. "Where was he?"

"He lived most his life in a boy's home in upstate New York," she bit. "But by the time I got there, he had run away and was living on the streets in the city."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't get to apologize," Lyla responded, barely letting him finish. "Because of you, I missed out on a decade of his life. I missed out on his first steps, his first word, and so much more than I'll ever get to know. I don't know if I can ever forgive you."

"Did you find him though – after the boys' home; after the streets?"

Lyla nodded, her face automatically lighting up at the thought of their reunion, "I did."

"I know that I can never undo my stupidity, and a million apologies wouldn't be enough, but I want to know him. Would you tell me about him? Please?"

She had disgust in her heart for her father, but her love for August and all the good that had happened to her in the last year won out. "He truly is one of the most brilliant individuals I have ever met. He is kind and talented – within 6 months, he went from never having played an instrument to attending Juilliard and writing his own piece for the Philharmonic's Concert in the Park last year. And family is so important to him, which is why I'm here."

"Juilliard? He can't be more than…"

"Thirteen. He attends Juilliard on the weekends and public school on the weekdays. He wants to meet you."

"Of course, I would love to—"

"There's something else first."

After a pause, Lyla's father urged her on.

"On the day I found August – I was at the same concert and had performed a solo with the orchestra before August began his piece – I was leaving when I heard his piece called 'August's Rhapsody' and there was something about it… a power that called to me. I knew I would find him there and knew I had to turn around. I stood in front of the stage, this child – my child – conducting an em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"orchestra/em, when I felt this other pull. I looked to my right, and saw him. Louis. The… father. August's father. Just like that, we were a family. And Louis and I are getting married. In July. We—I want you to be there."

"Married? You barely—"

"Dad," Lyla interrupted before her father could lecture her. "I met this man thirteen years ago and fell in love instantly. Thirteen years ago, you were right to be concerned. I was young and naïve. But now? Now, it has been thirteen years that we've loved each other, even if we were apart and lost for twelve of them. Neither of us continued with our passion of music until… suddenly, we did. Our passion brought us to that park at the same time on the same night, and brought all of us together. That is what fairy tales are made of. That's what fate is. You can fight it and make everyone around you unhappy, or embrace it and revel in the happiness that three people share."

Her father sat silent for a moment, thinking about the validity of the story. It truly seemed too good to be true. However, he knew that for all of their disagreements, Lyla had never been one to lie. Not like him. She was as honest as her mother was, and although the story seemed unlikely, he trusted his daughter. "Okay," he said finally.

"Okay?"

"I know that I haven't been the best father, but I have only ever wanted your happiness. If this is what will make you happy, and if this is how I will meet my grandson, then okay. I will do what I must."


End file.
